


Usurper

by lunasenzanotte



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crimes & Criminals, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunasenzanotte/pseuds/lunasenzanotte
Summary: Roman and Julian have a relationship quite uncommon in their world, and then Marc comes along and Roman takes him under his wings. Jealous and heartbroken, Julian does something really stupid, and then his world just turns upside down.





	Usurper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mm_nani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm_nani/gifts).



> Many thanks to the amazing @prompt_fills for consulting this fic with me when I was stuck.
> 
> This is my first Dortmund fic, so please bear with me. Writing the guys was harder than I had thought it would be.
> 
> And I'm sorry for "Snake", you know who he is, right?

Julian had always thought that what he and Roman had was special. Well, not like it was something otherworldly or exceptional, but in their world, it was a relationship that wasn’t common. It was built on trust, and that was a rare commodity. You had to watch your back all the time, and if you had someone to watch it for you, you were richer than any money could make you.

But then Marc appeared out of nowhere, with that bright smile and bewitching eyes and his fucking unreal honesty, and Roman fell for it like an idiot. And then Marc slowly started usurping Roman, with little things at first, so little that Roman would just laugh at Julian if he ever pointed them out, because he probably didn’t even notice them, but Julian did. He noticed every single one and it made him more and more mad. When he came to Roman’s place, he would find Marc sitting in his armchair. Drinking out of his mug. Calling Roman when they were together. He was like moss, finding every tiny crack there was between Roman and Julian and growing there.

He hated him from the first moment.

 

* * *

 

“Snake’s men were selling in our area last night again,” Julian says and sits on the sofa, ignoring Marc occupying his place like he has a fucking decree for it.

“I know,” Roman says. “Aubame’s told me.”

Julian shoots a hateful look at Marc who says nothing at all, like Julian isn’t even there. Then he looks at Roman again, when he realizes that it was all he had to say to it.

“They think they can make fun of you,” Julian states. “And you let them.”

“So what do you suggest?” Roman asks calmly. Sometimes Julian cannot comprehend how this man is a feared drug lord. He usually looks and acts in such ways that even a little braver child would dare to fight him. “War?”

“There’s already war and we weren’t the ones who started it,” Julian barks. 

Roman smiles condescendingly and then turns to Marc. “Marc?”

Julian clenches his teeth. He knew it was going to happen, and he hates himself for always feeling so betrayed when Roman asks Marc his opinion right after Julian says something, like Julian is a fucking child and Marc his older, smarter brother. After all he’s done for Roman, after all the cold nights in the streets, after all the nights he spent wide awake, waiting for the sound of the key in the lock, waiting for Roman to come home, wondering whether he _would_ come home. He’d take a bullet for him anytime, and now it seems he’ll have to put it in his head himself and Roman won’t even care.

“There might be war, but confronting Snake would mean an _open_ war,” Marc says and looks at him pointedly. “We can’t risk that.”

_And there he goes again,_ Julian thinks. _Taking Roman’s side no matter what._

“I agree,” Roman nods. “We need to assess the situation before we strike. Snake could have friends we don’t know of yet.”

“Right,” Julian sighs. “Of course the two of you are always right.”

He gets up and heads to the door. He doesn’t even notice Roman’s got up until he blocks his way right before Julian can open the door.

“Ju,” he says and Julian has to blink back tears because Roman sounds just like he used to when everything was good, before Marc, when he was all _his_. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Julian barks and tries to push past him. Roman doesn’t move. “Just before, you used to listen to me.”

“I always listen to you,” Roman says softly.

“Maybe you listen,” Julian whispers. “But you can’t hear me anymore.”

He sneaks past Roman and runs down the stairs. Before he opens the door of his car, he knows what he has to do. The plan is foolish and he knows it from the start, but he has to do it. He’ll make sure Roman knows who is truly on his side.

 

* * *

 

To say that Snake’s men are not amused would be an awfully big understatement. Or maybe not, because they seem to be amused a lot. Otherwise they’d kill Julian on spot. But they seem to be determined in making him suffer for some time before killing him, and he’s quite convinced that he deserves it. Maybe they’re just killing time before Snake arrives, maybe they’re leaving Julian alive for him so that he could kill him personally, but he doubts that. He’s no one important. Killing him isn’t a privilege, it’s a chore, and men like Snake don’t do chores.

Julian has never been much religious, but he prays the whole time, the prayer consisting of little more than Roman’s name. However unlikely it is, he prays for Roman to appear here and save him. And then God answers his prayers, but in His own way.

A familiar car cuts the corner at a mad speed and the brakes screech loudly. The driver jumps out before Snake’s men can even realize what’s going on.

“You better leave him alone,” he says, and the voice is familiar, but not quite what Julian expected.

“Marc?” he breathes out.

“Hi,” Marc says curtly, not even looking in his direction. “This wasn’t personal before, guys, but now you’ve made it personal.”

One of the men sneers and walks up to Marc. Next thing Julian knows, the man is lying on the ground. Julian has no idea where he’s learned something like that, but he’s still convinced it’s not enough against so many opponents, leave alone armed with knives.

That’s until Marc pulls out a gun and shoots two without hesitating.

Julian freezes. _Since when does he have a fucking gun?_

The last guy seizes the opportunity. He wraps an arm around Julian’s throat and pulls him to his feet, dragging him along as he begins to retreat toward the garage. Marc makes a step in the same direction. A second later, Julian feels a cold blade against his throat.

“Don’t come any closer!” his captor warns. “Or I’ll cut his throat!”

It doesn’t seem like Marc cares a single bit. _Well, why should he?_

“If you do, I’ll still shoot you afterwards,” he states.

It’s a strange sight. Marc’s hair is messy and his cheekbones have a red tint, either bruises or just flushing. But his green eyes look wilder than Julian has ever seen them before. There’s something feral in them. 

“Julian,” he says, and his voice sounds strangely calm, somehow deeper. “Can I do this?”

Julian feels his heart thudding in his chest when he understands Marc’s plan. 

“Yes,” he whispers feebly and forces his body to relax. As he slumps down in his captor’s grip, the man’s forearm presses against his throat and he sees black in the corners of his eyes. He screws his eyes shut anyway.

The man’s grip slacks a millisecond before Julian hears the shot, but it doesn’t really matter. In any case, he hits the ground hard, and he leaves his eyes shut for a long time before he dares to move and make sure that he is indeed not dead.

“Julian?” he hears Marc’s voice close to his ear, uncomfortably close to his ear, and for the first time, there’s something like concern in it. “Look at me. Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” 

Julian wants to answer, but no sound comes out of his mouth. And then suddenly Marc is cradling him to his chest, one arm around his waist and the other hand gently cupping his jaw, and Julian wants to hate him, but he feels so safe, warm and nested that he can scarcely think, leave alone hate.

 

* * *

 

Marc more drags him to the car than Julian walks to it himself, and he pushes him to the back seat despite his protests. Julian turns on the uninjured side, finding the most comfortable position. He still feels like a truck has run him over, several times. 

“Please, don’t go to Roman’s place,” he whispers when Marc sits behind the wheel, adjusting the mirror, and Julian suspects it’s because he wants to be able to check on him, not the situation on the road behind him.

“I won’t,” Marc assures him. “I don’t think he should see you like this. He’d probably freak out.”

In all honesty, Julian isn’t worried about Roman freaking out because of how he looks, but rather about him killing them both for their stupidity, but he doesn’t have the strength to correct Marc.

“I should take you to a hospital,” Marc muses, starting the car.

“Funny,” Julian says between gritted teeth because the first sway of the car makes him reconsider his comfortable position.

Marc says nothing more and if he weren’t so miserable right now, Julian would savor this little victory of his. For once, Mr. Smart Guy wasn't so smart.

 

* * *

 

When the car stops, Julian lifts his head and looks out of the window. All he can see are parked cars and some neon signs. 

“Wait here,” Marc says and exits the car.

Julian almost doesn’t want him to go, some little part of him wants to grab Marc’s hand and pull him back, and he immensely hates himself for it.

He can’t quite tell how much time has passed when Marc returns with a plastic bag full of things, throws it on the passenger seat next to him and starts the car again.

“Are you all right in there?” he asks.

“Still breathing,” Julian assures him.

“Fine. Keep it up.”

Julian actually smiles and then immediately hates himself for it. He doesn’t laugh at Marc’s jokes, it’s a rule. He blames it on the pain messing with his head.

 

* * *

 

Marc unlocks the door of his apartment and pushes Julian inside. Julian’s never been here, they’d always met at Roman’s place. He would never cross the threshold of this place anyway, but now it seems like he has no choice.

Marc pulls some bottles full of pills out of the plastic bag and Julian is quite certain some of them are prescription only, but there’s nothing Marc can’t get when he wants it. Julian knows it from his own experience.

“You’ll take some of these and sleep it off,” he says. 

Before Julian can say something, Marc’s phone starts ringing. Marc fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the display.

“Roman,” he states and answers the call before Julian can truly start to panic.

Julian wants to strangle him.

He listens to Marc lie to Roman so smoothly, that he would believe the lies himself, if it weren’t for the bruises on his body and the fact that he was at Marc’s place. He makes up some story Roman would never believe if it was someone else telling him, but he will eat up everything Marc says, Julian knows that first-hand because he’s witnessed it so many times.

“You should have a shower,” Marc says matter-of-factly.

Julian wants to strangle him in the nastiest way it’s possible to strangle someone. It’s like Marc constantly has to tell people what to do, and it always sounds like he means it well, like Julian has to be told when to eat and when to drink and when to have a shower. Except this time, Marc is probably right, so Julian puts the strangling on hold and with an annoyed growl bangs the bathroom door behind him.

 

* * *

 

The bed smells a lot like Marc and just a little bit like some detergent, and Julian almost thinks that his skin must start to itch at any given moment because there’s no way he is not allergic to Marc’s scent. He’s allergic to Marc’s whole existence.

“Take these,” Marc says and hands him a couple pills and a glass of water.

Julian gives him a suspecting gaze.

“If I wanted to kill you, I’d just have left it up to Snake’s men. Saving your life and poisoning you three hours later wouldn’t really make sense, would it?” Marc raises his brows. 

Julian takes a deep breath, but he can’t think of anything clever to say, so he just swallows the pills. Not waking up in the morning doesn’t actually seem all that bad. It would be definitely better than explaining himself to Roman.

When Marc climbs onto the bed, Julian is almost outraged, but then he realizes that there is little else than the bed in the apartment. And asking someone who’s just saved your life to sleep on the floor is rude even by Julian’s standards.

“How did you know you wouldn’t miss?” he whispers when Marc switches off the lamp on the bedside table.

“I didn’t.” 

“Oh.” There isn’t much more he could say to this. “And how did you know where to find me?”

Marc hesitates this time. “I had a feeling.”

“Feeling?” Julian repeats derisively. “What are you, a fucking psychic?”

“No. I just knew what you would do. Because I’d do the same thing if I were in your place.”

“My place,” Julian mumbles, feeling the meds kick in. His head is suddenly heavy. “You _are_ in my place, moron. You stole it from me.”

The last thing he hears before falling asleep is Marc’s soft laugh, and he hates him, hates him, hates him…

 

* * *

 

The morning is far worse than the night. His body sings in pain, as if the bruises needed time to ripen. 

“Where do you think you are going?” Marc’s amused voice sounds from the kitchen door when Julian manages to sit up and put his feet on the floor after an excruciatingly long and painful process.

“Where do _you_ think I’m going?”

“I don’t know, but you’re allowed to the bathroom and that’s it,” Marc states and puts a tray on the bedside table. Out of everything on it, the painkillers look the most appealing, but Julian knows better than to complain. “I need to go to Roman’s place. Seems like Snake’s found out he now has less friends, and he’s not happy about it.”

Julian looks up sheepishly. “What will you tell him?” he asks. “Roman?”

“The same thing as yesterday,” Marc shrugs. “That you got drunk because you’re a jealous idiot.”

“I’m not…”

“Jealous? Or an idiot?” Marc smirks. “Remind me, who went to see Snake armed with nothing but a Swiss knife? Because he was jealous of me?”

“I had a reason!” Julian snaps. “You destroyed all that was between Roman and me! I don’t know what you did, but he no longer trusts me and it’s all your fault! Fine, you won! You can tell him what I did and have him for yourself!”

Marc looks at him like he tries to process his words, slightly scrunching his nose in that annoying way of his, and somehow it looks almost like Julian is the one who’s won.

“I never wanted to have Roman for myself,” he says quietly, and there’s something strange in his voice, almost like _hurt_ , except it doesn’t make sense at all. “I never wanted that at all.”

Then he turns around and walks out of the apartment so quickly Julian doesn’t even have time to curse him off. 

Julian grabs the pills and swallows them, three this time just to make sure, leaving the pathetic attempt at breakfast untouched. He replays their exchange in his head over and over, and just as the painkillers kick in and he’s about to drift into the merciful slumber, he finally understands.

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Fuck.” 

 

* * *

 

He wakes up with a start, drenched in cold sweat, not quite sure what nightmare it was this time, but most likely it involved Snake and some deadly weapon as usual, only that the painkillers have added a scary, psychedelic vibe to it. 

“Ju?” Marc’s voice says and then the bed next to him dips. The room is dark now and Marc’s clothes smell of the cold night air. He must have just returned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Julian says. “Bad dream. The pills.”

His head spins a bit from hunger, the long hours of sleep and the painkillers. He hides his face in Marc’s shirt. Marc tenses for a moment, but then he wraps an arm around him.

“Me,” Julian whispers after a while. “It was me you wanted for yourself.”

“Yes,” Marc says quietly. 

“But… you never said anything…” 

Marc shrugs and pulls away. “What does it matter? You hate me anyway.”

“Maybe I don’t.” He can’t believe he hears himself say this, but all of a sudden, it sounds just right. 

“Fine. So you don’t hate me. But you don’t care about me. And that’s basically the same thing.”

Julian takes a deep breath. “I said you destroyed what was between me and Roman, but it’s not true. The cracks were already there. You just made them bigger. And you probably would have never managed that if… if I didn’t care about you.”

Marc keeps looking at him for a while, his eyes glimmering in the dark. Julian is so tempted to reach up to his face to find out if he’s crying, but he doesn’t quite dare.

“Remember when you asked me how I knew I wouldn't miss?” Marc whispers.

“Yes.”

“I just knew I couldn’t miss. That’s all.”

Now Julian lays his hand on Marc’s cheek. It’s wet.

“Now who’s an idiot here?” he smiles.

Marc laughs softly. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Julian says and presses his lips against Marc’s. When Marc pulls him closer and accidentally touches his bruised ribs, he sees stars, but he couldn’t care less. He’d expected he’d feel guilty, but he feels nothing, and it’s the best nothing he’s ever felt.

“I knew you wouldn’t miss,” he whispers. 

And it’s the last thing he says that night, because he doesn’t need to say anything more. 


End file.
